


Confessions on Rooftops

by lookingforatardis



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Confessions, M/M, New York, POV Third Person, Post-production, Tumblr Prompt, listen this ALMOST is happy? no? ok...sorry...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis
Summary: "I…" he stutters and looks away, afraid to get lost in Armie's eyes. "I didn’t know," he manages."Yes you did-""I didn't know," he insists, looking back and shaking his head. "I didn't know."Or, while visiting Timmy in New York, they finally talk about how they feel.





	Confessions on Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tumblr: a third person charmie confession (post filming) where one or the other confesses and it could end vaguely, or sadly, or whatever but i want more angst then just a nice and happy ot3 like give me that real raw shit please if you don't mind :)  
> Raw shit, anon? You got it. Enjoy!  
> **I do not own these people, this is purely fiction. If you know them, kindly refrain from showing them this and instead consider introducing us. Big fan.**

The two men sat next to each other catching up and reminiscing about the past that still felt all too real. It was Armie's second night in New York and they had just gotten dinner together and climbed the stairs to see the skyline from the roof of Timmy's apartment. It's hours before silence grows between them, interrupted only when Timmy voices the memory he'd been haunted by all weekend. "I keep thinking about that night we walked the piazza until dawn. Do you remember? You were wearing that striped sweater and you smelled like my cologne for some reason. I never asked you about that, did I? Why you were wearing my cologne?" Armie smirks and looks down, spinning his wedding ring on his finger, a nervous tick.

"I was _not_ wearing your cologne. Do _you_ really not remember?" he says finally, looking up. Timmy shakes his head. _Remember? Remember_ what _? He smelled like me_ , he thinks. "You goof. You stole the sweater from me, I found it in your room that day. It smelled like you because you had been wearing it without me knowing. How do you not remember that? I thought you remembered everything?" he teases, bumping his leg against Timmy's in jest.

"Oh god, wait-" Armie laughs. "Oh my god," Timmy says, head falling into his hands. He had completely forgot about that, how he wasn't sure. He had stolen the sweater because it smelled like _him,_ and Armie never said anything about it so Timmy had just assumed he didn't notice. He usually just slept in it, not wanting Armie to realize he took it. Armie laughs at Timmy's obvious state of distress and pushes him gently. When Timmy resists, he slings his arm around the younger man's shoulders and pulls him against his side.

"Why didn't I ever see you in it? You must have had it for a week. What, you wear it to bed?" he asks playfully, squeezing his shoulder.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing, leave me to die." Armie laughs softly and drops his arm to pull Timmy's hands away from his face. "Stop, seriously, I am so embarrassed right now," he tells him when he finally pulls the hands back, forcing Timmy to look at him.

"You did, didn't you? Sleep in it," he asks cautiously. He still has that teasing look in his eyes but his smirk has fallen significantly. He's testing the waters, seeing how much Timmy is willing to reveal, who with a sigh, simply shrugs. "Why?" Armie isn't sure why he's pushing him today, but he can't help it. There's something in the air that tells him Timmy will be honest, that he won't hold back. They were always very honest with one another, but they usually stayed away from talking about things that could lead to acknowledging and feelings they may or may not have caught during filming. For Armie, it was a conscious choice. He didn't want to dwell on it because of his wife, because he loved _her_. For Timmy, it was a subconscious avoidance, knowing somehow that talking about that sort of thing would only hurt.

Tonight was the first time Armie had been brave enough to push them towards that line. Perhaps it was the way the pavement smelled of rain, reminding him of all the rainy days in Italy. Or maybe it was because Timmy was wearing a shirt he'd taken from set. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he was tired of avoiding it.

"You know why," Timmy mutters, looking down. They were sitting on the roof of Timmy's building. There was a small garden up there that they liked. This was Armie's first time visiting Timmy in New York and it felt like a dream. In LA, it was easy to remember that their time in Italy was about roles, pretending to be other people. Here in New York, surrounded by strangers, just the two of them, it was harder to remember whether or not it had been Oliver and Elio in love that summer or them.

"Tell me," Armie whispers. He must be a masochist, he thinks, to want the answer so badly. Timmy shakes his head. " _Please_."

"Why?" Timmy looks at him, his jaw set, eyes holding back something- Anger, Armie realizes. "Why do you care? You really want me to say it? Do you _really_ want to hear it?" He shakes his head again and looks down.

"Timmy-"

"You already know," he says. "Don't make me say it. Don't do that to me." Armie takes his hand off Timmy's leg, having forgotten he'd left it there. The sudden absence feels too real, yet too symbolic, for Timmy and he lets out a deep sigh, falling forward until his elbows rest on his knees. Armie looks over the city and tries to remember what it was like to hold him and not worry about the consequences. The memory is too distant, too muddled by reality.

"I hate this, Timmy," he says suddenly. "I hate that you're hiding from me right now-" Timmy laughs in disbelief, an almost choked sound.

"You're kidding me, right?" He looks back at Armie and swallows hard.

"I don't know how we got here. I don't know why we can't talk-"

"Don’t," he cuts Armie off. "Don't pretend you don't know, you know exactly how we got here. You know _exactly_ why we can't talk about it." Timmy looks back at the city after speaking and tries to steady his breathing. This was the closest he'd come to telling _anyone_ how he felt about Armie, anyone except Luca, that is. Luca was the only one who knew the absolute truth, who knew both sides of the story and was forced to sit by and watch as both suffered in silence, refusing to talk about their emotions.

Armie lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes his head, clenching his jaw. "What if I'm tired of not talking about it?"

"Too bad," Timmy mutters.

"Oh, come on!" Timmy doesn't move. "Okay, fine. You want me to go first? Fine." This turns the younger man, glancing back in confusion. "That night in Italy, we didn't see each other all day because you had to do that scene with Esther and I didn't want to be around for it. I hung out in your room while you filmed and found it. Then we got dinner with everyone and then you suggested we wander off. You want to know why I wore that striped sweater that night? _Because_ it smelled like you. That's why."

Timmy was stunned. There had been moments in Italy where he was sure it wasn't all in his head, sure, but he never believed-never anticipated- that he'd ever hear him admit it. "I…" he stutters and looks away, afraid to get lost in Armie's eyes. "I didn’t know," he manages.

"Yes you did-"

" _I didn't know,_ " he insists, looking back and shaking his head. "I didn't know."

"Oh," Armie says. The word hangs in the air, both staring at each other. Armie was positive Timmy had known how he felt. He thought that was part of the reason they never talked about it, because saying it out loud would make it harder to refrain from doing something about it. He knew how Timmy felt, the kid was easier to read than Harper. He just assumed he knew how he felt, too.

Timmy sits up straight and stares at his hands, feeling every inch between the two. "I still have your gray hoodie," he whispers.

"Oh damn, I _knew_ you had it! I've been looking for that," Armie says, momentarily distracted. "You sleep in it, too?" he meant for it to sound teasing but instead it sounds desperate.

"Yes," Timmy admits.

"Timmy-" Armie waits until he looks up at him then loses his train of thought. Timmy looks vulnerable, more vulnerable than Armie had seen him since they filmed the movie.

"You know I love you, don't you?" Timmy asks softly. He's never said those words to anyone, not even Lourdes.

"I do," Armie whispers back. Timmy nods and looks away. "I love you, too," says. "Don't tell," he adds, trying to make light of the weight created by this conversation and failing.

Timmy looks back at him and for the first time since filming, allows himself to let go. He leans in against Armie's should and grabs the edge of his shirt in his fingers. Armie shivers at his cold fingers grazing his skin, placing a hand over Timmy's. He lets out a shaky breath and runs his fingers through Timmy's hair gently, closing his eyes. Timmy leans up and touches foreheads with the older man. "You don't know how many times I wanted you to say that," Timmy confesses. "How many times I dreamed about you saying it." Armie lifts his hands to cradle Timmy's face like he used to. He knows there is a line, he knows that moving any closer, doing anything in this moment except walking away, would be crossing it. He knows the gravity of his moment, understands that this will be a secret he must keep from his wife. He knows how much it would hurt her, knows that he should stop.

He understands all of this and yet, as Timmy whispers, " _Please_ ," he can't help himself. He brings their lips together in a sigh, their first kiss in many months. The first kiss where there was absolutely no pretense of Elio and Oliver, no falling back on the lie that they were just acting. It's the first kiss where Timmy leans in with his whole heart, returning each movement with subtle eagerness. It's the first kiss Armie lets go of all the lies he's told, to Liz, to Timmy, to himself, that he didn't feel anything.

When they part, Timmy rests his hand against Armie's heart and bites his lip. "This is all we're ever going to get, isn't it?" he asks quietly. Armie nods sadly. "Then kiss me again."

"Timmy-"

"Kiss me until I forget about every time you kissed me as Oliver, until all I remember is _you_ ," he says, placing his hands on either side of Armie's face. " _Kiss me_ ," he says again, pressing his lips to Armie's jaw. " _Please._ "

Armie feels his resolve crumbing and runs excuse after excuse through his mind, finally realizing that the line has been crossed and there's no going back. One night, he'll give them one night, and then that would be it. One night to remember, to hold onto when hope was lost. One night where they could be themselves and be nothing more than two beings in love. He kisses him again, and again, hands splaying over Timmy's back as he pulls him onto his lap. He kisses him until he forgets to breathe, until he can't stand the layers between them. He kisses him until he forgets why he ever stopped in Crema, why he never let them cross this line before. He kisses him until Timmy is calling out a name that is not his own, until they forget about everyone and everything except each other. Kisses him until dawn, until their night is over, and reality sets in.

He dresses the next morning and sits on the edge of Timmy's bed, watching him wake up. Timmy knows in an instant that it's over, that every moment from then on he'll simply be chasing a feeing he found with Armie. He turns away from Armie and lets the tears take him, letting every emotion he'd held back from expressing overwhelm him. "Oh, Timmy," Armie sighs. He leans down and wraps up Timmy's smaller frame in his arms until he's crying into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Soon they both find themselves crying, holding one another, lost in what could have been.

"Will it ever get easier?" Timmy asks him later after they've recovered.

"I don't know. I hope so," Armie replies with a sad smile. They look at each other in silence, replaying the night before, wishing their time together could have lasted longer. Timmy thinks that this is perhaps the saddest he's ever been, ever will be, as he looks back at the man he knows he will never have again. He'll get moments and hugs, smiles and laughter, but never this, never again. He'd spend forever replaying the memory of waking up in his arms, of kissing him until he couldn't breathe, until he didn't  _want_ to breath if it meant living without him. 

"Is it a video?" Timmy whispers, almost to himself, looking down. The question is enough to bring tears to Armie's eyes and he has to look away. They sit in silence for a while, afraid to speak, afraid to move beyond the moment. They finally come out of it when Armie's phone rings. _Liz_. His eyes slip shut and he fights tears once again. Timmy sees and stands, walking away, closing himself off in his bedroom. Armie watches him go in silence, wishing he could hold him once more. Slowly, he takes a deep breath, looks away from Timmy's door, and picks up his phone.

"Hello?"

**Author's Note:**

> So um...yeah. for the sweater: http://lookingforatardis.tumblr.com/post/169204170157/in-case-yall-were-wondering-i-was-talking-about  
> Send me prompts on tumblr! Let me know what you think :)


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